Paint Stripper by Patricia Walsh

This corrosion, for better bearing,ended ,

stench of solvent above the flower box

flavours distended, unwatered, to demise.

 

I once feared being pounced on,.

people doing other than eating.

Minding their business, chatting to content.

 

Esoteric art hangs on the wall.

Selling for an orchestra, singing well,

enjoying the radio mumbling overhead.

 

Looking out on the cycle path, saying prayers

against the river’s deluge, a fractured coursing

still only in one direction, catching fire.

 

The sun dances on various monuments,

sinking drinks al fresco, eating ad nauseum,

memoirs of the stony dead staying regardless.

 

Sweet wild flowers inhabit the tables,

scent bred out for better bearing

allergens eaten to hold for dear life.

 

A portmanteau life, an ersatz existence,

eat and somehow leave, bereft of information

imparted, sightseeing for dear life.

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